


On Love and Belly Rubs

by konoyo



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 01:36:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4372109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/konoyo/pseuds/konoyo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Napoleon is the luckiest pug in the world. (Arthur and Eames as told by Napoleon the pug, an incredibly unreliable narrator with weird dreams.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Love and Belly Rubs

**Author's Note:**

> An incredibly silly birthday present for my homie, Marourin.

Napoleon had a good life. It was filled with belly rubs and people cooing over his person, fresh food and a comfy bed. Eames, his owner, was also perfectly sensible. Though he called Napoleon things like Bojangles or Mr. Pickles, he gave him baths and walked with him and threw a ball around for Napoleon to chase. It was everything a dog could ask for, especially one that was as important as Napoleon. After all, he knew enough about humans to tell than because everywhere, people took photos of him and his owner, that meant they were both very famous.

There was, of course, the issue of the other pug Napoleon kept seeing around the house. Eames said that it was just a reflection. Napoleon really didn't believe him. Eames got out the camera.

Which wasn't to say that he didn't have any responsibilities. Of course, he had to guard his owner. Though often times that was harder than it looked. Eames'd walk straight into flocks of pigeons if Napoleon wasn't there to scatter them first and would scoop him up before Napoleon had a chance to bite an offending ankle. It was hard being a bodyguard when he was that small and most of the humans that followed them around in black suits and sunglasses were rather useless to help.

The end of his comfy life started just like any other day. They had just left the apartment when they were surrounded by crowds and crowds of human feet, all pointing towards them. All photographers, too, which were Napoleon's favorite because they wouldn't run away as fast when he tried to nip at their ankles.

"What can you tell us about the president's new announcement-?"

"Can you confirm that -"

"Is there any truth to the rumours of -"

There was lots of shouting and his owner was pulling desperately at his leash in the opposite direction of those feet even though Napoleon would like nothing more but to piss on those shiny shoes. That was when his collar snapped. He was free! And Napoleon ran, nipping at ankles and pant legs and then seeing every dog's dream: a truck and giving chase. It wouldn't escape him this time.

But then there was screeching and honking and suddenly, he was being lifted into the air, flying almost, tucked close to the collar of suit that smelled a lot like cleanliness, citrus and camphor and made Napoleon really want to piss on it. So he did.

\-----

"Oh god, Bojangles, is he-"

"Your dog fucking pissed on me!"

"Ah- Oh, oh, he did, I'm sorry. Please, come up to the hotel room so you can clean up, bloody hell, Bo, is this any way to treat the handsome man who saved your life?"

\-----

Napoleon sniffed along the floor as once they had managed to get back to their hotel room, then remembered his duty of being a guard dog and yapped at Camphor's soft, grey slacks until he was scooped up by his owner and lifted to yap at Camphor's wet pinstriped tie.

"I am so sorry. He's a bit temperamental... You're- Mr. Pickles, where are your manners today?"

Napoleon did quiet down this time, grunting and settling into his owner's arms.

"That's better. I'm so sorry about your clothes. Let me get you a shirt and tie to change into. You were heading to interview for my security detail?"

"Yes. You seem to need it." Camphor looks like he's barely tolerating being here and is slowly and with great disgust untying his necktie. Napoleon growls at it a little before he's shushed. Eames carries him into the bedroom where he puts him down so he can take out a change of clothes. There's red and gold swirls on the tie he picks out and Napoleon remembers marking that specific one before. Which means he's completely okay with Camphor getting it.

"Your names is...?" his owner asks as Camphor eyes the tie with open disdain.

"Arthur," he answers coldly. "I don't think that tie will make a favorable impression."

"Arthur... Arthur Levine? Not to worry. You're hired."

"I'm sorry?"

"You're hired." Napoleon woofed to emphasize.

"No... No, I'm sorry, I would rather prefer it if you hired me based on my abilities, not because your dog happened to pee on me." His tie dropped to the floor with a wet flop and Arthur looked at it with only intensifying disgust.

"Oh, no, the decision was made beforehand. The interview was supposed to be a character evaluation and you saved Pugasso here without a second thought to it, so I think you'll do splendid. You are the most capable man for the job. The last head of security, well, let's just say the crazy fan was arrested only after he made it through to my apartments..." Napoleon tuned the rest of it out as he wiggled free of his owner's grasp to chase after the pigeon he saw in the window.

\----

Arthur did make a fairly good bodyguard. Which was a little bit disappointing since that meant Napoleon was out of a job and for the first couple of weeks, Eames didn't even take him on any walks. It was all Arthur.

Now, if Arthur was his owner... Well, Napoleon didn't think he'd be as well off as he was with Eames. Napoleon really had to double check on that whole 'capable' business. Arthur really had no idea what he was doing. After a rather loud argument that delayed his daily walk as usual, once they were outside, Arthur's choice of conversation was really rather lacking.

"What does it matter to him who walks the dog?" Arthur mumbled, which had been a tried intro to most of their walks for the past week. "If he has paparazzi on his ass, that means he should stay inside. I can walk you just fine. Isn't that right?"

Arthur then promptly almost stepped in Napoleon's poop instead of cleaning it up like Eames would and then almost dropped it out of the plastic bag when he did get around to it, this only after cursing up a storm. Napoleon really had to say it did matter who walked him after all.

And who fed him: Arthur always gave him way too little. And who pet him: Arthur kept getting distracted by something or other Eames had said and started petting the wrong way all too often.

Arthur was an awful owner, all things considered. Thankfully, by the second week, he finally let Eames take over the walking at least once a week though he always followed along. Napoleon was just thankful he had someone who could pick up his poop in a civilized manner and got the chance to chase pigeons all he wanted.

\----

Months went by and Napoleon eventually had to admit Arthur wasn't completely awful at everything. Eames certainly liked him, however dismaying that was.

When they were all home - or in a hotel room, which was also home as far as Napoleon was concerned - Arthur and Eames spent most of that time with each other while Napoleon sat around looking out the window.

It was the same now. He was currently staring down a rather rough looking man who'd been glaring at him from his car for the past couple of hours. Napoleon would bark at him occasionally but Eames would shush him when he really got into it from where he and Arthur were sitting on the couch. Napoleon sniffled a little and continued glaring. He really couldn't see what was so fun about pressing your mouths together for hours on end anyway.

"Eames..."

"Not to fret, darling, he'll get bored of it soon enough. Come here..."

His next bark wasn't even shushed but at that point Napoleon lost all of his enthusiasm and retreated to his bed to ignore all the hummy and breathy sounds the two were making. He hoped they were having fun.

\----

Eames was out the next time Napoleon saw the angry man he'd seen in the window. And all that might have been in a dream. Both Arthur and Eames were out, in fact, and Napoleon only got two good barks in at the strange, ashy-smelling man as he walked through the front door before he promptly fell asleep.

He woke up to Arthur taking off his coat while Eames poked him and laughed at the fact that he'd fallen asleep in the middle of the entrance hallway. Napoleon could sleep where he wanted to, thank you very much.

\----

The third time he smelled ash, Arthur had gone home and it was the middle of the night. Or he thought he smelled it. That and a scuffle... Maybe that was all a dream too.

\----

The next day, Eames was gone. It was only Arthur and he stayed just long enough to open a can of dog food before running right back out the door. When he came back it was late, and he looked frantic, pacing the whole night while Napoleon watched. Had something happened?

And where was Eames?

The next morning found the both of them curled up on the couch, Napoleon tucked into Arthur's chest and Arthur's fingers running through his fur. Arthur had gotten good at petting. He wouldn't be as terrible an owner as he was when he'd first started out and he sort of smelled a lot like Eames now but... It just wouldn't be the same.

"I'm sorry, Bo," Arthur told him, thumb running lamely behind Napoleon's ear. It was pouring outside as it had been during the night. Arthur was still a little damp. Maybe he'd been out looking for Eames, even if he had a terrible sense of smell and no one could smell anything when it was raining.

"Guess I should get fired except how there's no one to fire me. I could do with a good firing right now, all the things that I got wrong. I'm a huge fucking idiot. Maybe if I hadn't been so distracted I could have stopped this..." Napoleon woofed to agree with that one. "Yeah... Fuck... And I can't even do anything."

Napoleon whimpered a little bit and buried his nose in Arthur's chest, not even looking up when Arthur reached for a ringing phone.

\----

That night, Napoleon had an even stranger dream. He was in a darkened warehouse, his back pressed against a wall. There were people around him, also waiting. It was hushed and the only sounds were their breathing and the drip of the water as it continued to rain.

There were little clicks and sounds of pacing coming from the warehouse but nothing more than that. On a signal - what kind of signal, Napoleon wasn't sure, but there had to have been one - he and the rest of the team rushed in, and there was gunfire but he was there to find Eames.

He ran in a different direction than the others, dodging between huge shipping containers, tugging at his helmet so he could smell the air. There. Much better. This way.

There were several men in his way but most of them he took down. There was an explosion somewhere behind him and as he turned the corner he saw Eames, finally, tied to a chair and bleeding artfully from his temple. He found him!

That was where he woke up. He definitely watched too much television while Eames was away from home.

\----

No one came around that day, however. Or the next. Arthur had turned on the automatic feeder so all Napoleon had to do was lay there until the feeder decided it was time to turn. He didn't even want to bark out the window. What was the point if there was no one to shush him?

He paced the apartment and resisted the strange lady who came to give him a walk, only lasting around the block to go to the bathroom before giving up and wanting to go home. This was miserable. Eames was gone and Arthur was gone too. Soon he'd simply be living out on the streets. He whined softly and went to poop in the middle of the floor out of misery.

\----

Eventually, someone did come to pick him up. Or, he thought he was just going to be taken for a walk again but when he collapsed again after the couple of blocks, he was picked up and put in a carrier that was put in a car that drove for what seemed like hours. He was surrounded by familiar smelling things. Eames' clothes? Guess they were going to throw that out, too.

Eventually the car stopped and his carrier was taken out. Where they were was completely different from the city. Everywhere smelled like one of those pine candles that Eames was partial to and there were trees absolutely everywhere. He was supposed to live here? There wasn't even any garbage to pick through.

There was a house though, just the one that he could see and he was carried inside, his carrier put down on the ground. The house... Smelled familiar. Different, but there were whiffs...

"Hey there, Mr. Pickles," Eames said, stooping down to unlock the door of the carrier and Napoleon all but jumped into his face, licking him and thrashing in his arms when he was picked up. He was okay! Eames was okay! And Arthur was there too! Napoleon wiggled his way towards Arthur until Arthur had to either take him or let him fall on the floor and once he was in his arms Napoleon licked his cheeks and nose and lips too. Oh, he was so happy to see them both.

"I'm sorry we had to leave you alone," Arthur said, laughing slightly as Eames rubbed the top of his head, making his eyes bulge a little.

"We'll be staying here for a bit," Eames said, grinning a little as Napoleon turned to lick him now, nose bumping up against the bandage on his head. "With someone else to protect the both of us. You think that'll be alright?"

Napoleon woofed. As long as he was with them, he really couldn't be any happier.


End file.
